Chapter 59: Man does not depart from the Dao, the Dao is not far from man

Within the Potian Palace, upon the first-tier stands.
Xuanxu and other spectators from the Seeking Truth Temple looked gravely concerned.
On the second-tier stands, True Person Yuquan wore a complex expression. He disliked both competitors in the arena, yet if forced to choose one, he would rather see Changxuanzi win than have to look at Old Man Donglai’s gloating, smug face.
Down in the arena, the two exchanged bows.
Changxuanzi struck first, wielding a fist on his left and a sword on his right, maintaining his consistent combat style.
If he did not attack, so be it; once he attacked, he would give it his all.
His fist momentum was tyrannical, and his sword intent was sharp. The fusion of fist and sword was overwhelmingly powerful. Even Daoist Xiguang would have had to treat this blow with caution; however, Daoist Zhaoye merely gave his sleeve a gentle flick, sending forth a strand of purple mist that dissolved the attack into nothingness, scattering it like smoke.
His heart sinking, Changxuanzi pressed the attack again. With stamping footsteps, the Eight Trigrams derived from his movement, and sword light erupted as the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation pressed forward aggressively.
Daoist Zhaoye neither dodged nor parried. In his starry eyes, a trace of faint appreciation emerged as he allowed the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation to trap him. When the sword light assailed him, he shifted his footing lightly, moving gracefully within a square inch of space to evade every sharp beam of light.
His pupils turning purple and blooming with a violet radiance, Daoist Zhaoye saw through the illusion and reality, flicking his finger gently against a ray of sword light. A metallic clang rang out, and the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation trembled abruptly, a fissure splitting across it.
Seeing that the formation did not shatter immediately, a look of surprise crossed Daoist Zhaoye’s peerlessly handsome face, and his slender fingers flicked once more.
With every flick, another crack appeared on the sword formation, and another wound appeared on Changxuanzi’s body, yet the formation stubbornly refused to break.
A deeper amusement bloomed on Daoist Zhaoye’s face as he curled his fingers and flicked three more times in rapid succession, whereupon the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation finally shattered with a deafening roar.
The heavy sword rebounded through the air and was caught by Changxuanzi, who staggered back three steps before plunging the blade obliquely into the ground. Gripping the hilt and crouching down on one knee to catch his breath, he abruptly spat out a mouthful of fresh blood.
His robes fluttering in the wind, Daoist Zhaoye brushed his sleeves and looked down at Changxuanzi, nodding as he said, "You are not bad."
To break the established convention and exchange six rounds with him was a rare sight indeed within the Qi-Refining Realm, especially since his opponent was merely in the third stage of Qi-Refining.
Wiping away the blood and using his sword as a crutch, Changxuanzi gritted his teeth and stood up. "Your cultivation is formidable, Daoist Brother, and I admire it deeply. I have one final sword strike, and I hope you will appraise it."
Curious, Daoist Zhaoye raised a hand in a gesture of invitation.
Mobilizing all his dharma power and vital blood, Changxuanzi closed his eyes and quieted his mind, entering a state of absolute non-thought and voidness. His spiritual awareness, dharma power, sword intent, and fist intent all melted into his flesh and blood, contracting inward toward a single point.
As time drifted by, he seemed as ordinary as any mortal, entirely unremarkable. Yet the more he appeared this way, the less Daoist Zhaoye dared to be careless, his expression turning solemn with a gravity not seen since the tournament began.
This double-champion was taking things seriously!
Time ticked away drop by drop. When the accumulation finally reached its critical threshold, Changxuanzi opened his eyes.
"I possess a sword capable of slaying demons and evils."
"I possess a sword destined to guard the Seeking Truth."
The moment the words fell, he raised his blade and slashed downward.
Like a volcanic eruption or a breached floodgate, an illusory figure rose behind Changxuanzi. Standing over a zhang in height, its features remained indistinct, yet it caused Xuanxu and the other third-generation Daoists to perk up instantly.
Though it possessed only the form and lacked true substance, they recognized the identity of the illusory figure instantly: "Senior Brother Xuanming!"
The *Spirit-Form Body-Forging Art* had been created by their Senior Brother, emphasizing visualization, meditation, and the union of spirit and flesh. Xuanxu and the others were astonished not because they had expected Changxuanzi to push this cultivation method to such heights, manifesting a spirit-form outwardly, but because—though initially startled to see their Senior Brother as the spirit-form—they quickly accepted it, realizing that their own visualizations were also of their Senior Brother.
In the arena, as Changxuanzi raised his sword, the illusory spirit-form mirrored the movement, lifting its blade as well. With a single downward slash—resembling a deity wielding a sword to purge demons, vanquish devils, and cleanse the cosmos—a three-zhang sword beam fell ferociously.

Daoist Zhaoye’s expression grew grave. With a slight shudder of his body, purple aura suffused the sky above his head, condensing into a purple sun.
The sword beam collided with the purple sun, causing the arena to tremble slightly while a dense pattern of sword scars and deep pits marred the ground below.
———
Upon Floating Cloud Mountain, at Seeking Truth Temple, in the Scripture-Hiding Peak within the Scripture-Hiding Pavilion, a white-haired old Daoist turning the pages of a Daoist scripture suddenly paused his fingers. Stirred by a premonition, his gaze pierced through the window to gaze into the distance—in the direction of Fengyang County.
"Strange! Why would I feel such a peculiar premonition? Have Xuanxu and the others run into trouble, or is there another reason?"
Putting down the scripture scrolls, Xuanming reached into a brush holder on his desk, grabbed a handful of writing brushes, and tossed them casually onto the table. The brushes scattered across the floor in a bizarre formation, surprisingly forming the Fire-Earth Jin Hexagram.
The upper trigram was Li, representing fire; the lower trigram was Kun, representing earth, bearing the auspicious imagery of progress, development, and success.
The initial six: *Advancing like a ram, struggling onward; steadfastness brings good fortune, though trust is lacking, magnanimity averts blame.* It signified initial progress, encountering obstacles, yet overall auspicious prospects and a sign of good fortune.
Twirling his fingers lightly, Xuanming understood the ins and outs of the matter, prompting him to stroke his beard and laugh heartily. "A fine hexagram! A fine omen! And what a fine Changxuanzi!"
Realizing that today was the final day of the martial trials, the smile on his face grew even warmer. "It seems the Seeking Truth Temple will soon have joyous news."
As for the minor calamity of bloodshed indicated within, Xuanming paid it no mind. In sparring and martial bouts, injuries were inevitable; besides, it was of no major consequence and posed no threat to life. Instead, it was an omen of good fortune carried within bloodshed.
Jade cannot become an instrument without carving; the youth ought to weather more storms and trials, or how else could they ever mature into talents?
Footsteps sounded as the pavilion-guarding Daoist heard the commotion and climbed to the second floor. Seeing the writing brushes scattered all over the floor, his brow twitched. He cast a resentful glance at his Grand Uncle-Master, then resignedly lowered his head to clean them up.
Long before the pavilion-guarding Daoist had appeared on the second floor, Xuanming had already picked up his Daoist scripture once more, concentrating wholeheartedly on comprehending the Dao as if entirely oblivious to his surroundings.
Not until the pavilion-guarding Daoist bowed and departed, gazing at the brushes neatly rearranged on the desk—where even the tips had been groomed without a single stray hair, all facing the exact same direction, and the shafts arranged in order of height from shortest to tallest—did Xuanming let out a sudden sigh.
Changfengzi, the pavilion-guarding Daoist meticulously selected by his Junior Brothers, was indeed excellent: diligent, sharp, and showing him utmost respect. His only flaws were that he was far too fastidious, overly meticulous, and possessed an intense case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Accustomed to casualness, Xuanming preferred to place things wherever it was most convenient and comfortable, completely contrary to the style of this cheap grand-nephew-disciple. Initially, he had found it somewhat difficult to adapt, though he had never driven the young man away, treating it instead as a form of mind-cultivation—and truth be told, the results were quite good.
Now, having grown accustomed to one another, a tacit understanding had formed: one placed things down, the other picked them up; one was casual, the other adhered strictly to rules. Motion and stillness, the old and the young, blended into an arcane flavor. Upon careful savoring, it was rather fascinating, granting him a more subtle realization of the truth that *"the Dao resides among all living beings, hidden within daily life; man never departs from the Dao, and the Dao is never far from man."* His immersion in the practice that *walking, standing, sitting, and lying down are all cultivation* had ascended to a higher level.
Sipping a cup of clear tea brewed by Changfengzi before heading downstairs, Xuanming gathered his stray thoughts and concentrated once more on studying the scriptures. Within breaths, he was immersed, forgetting both self and surroundings. Absorbing the principles and essences, discarding the dross and retaining the cream to nourish himself, his Daoist cultivation accumulated and grew silently like the moistening of spring rain—though a single drop of water was minute, it gradually filled a great vessel.
Fragrant tea curled in spirals, the scent of books lingered, and the heavenly incense refreshed the mind. The second floor of the Scripture-Hiding Pavilion soon grew serene and quiet once more, accompanied only by the white-haired old Daoist, the half-room of Daoist canons, and the occasional rustle of turning pages that soothed the spirit.
———
Within the Potian Palace, in the arena.
The sword beam was gradually swallowed by the purple sun.
Staggering on his feet, Changxuanzi spat blood once more, propping himself up with his sword to keep from falling.
Daoist Zhaoye maintained his courteous demeanor, neither pressing his advantage nor striking while his opponent was vulnerable. Those back-to-back bouts of vomiting blood were the backlash of having his spell broken. Knowing this full well, Changxuanzi still held an immensely favorable impression of Daoist Zhaoye despite his crushing defeat.
"Many thanks, Daoist Brother. This poor Daoist is convinced of your victory."
Daoist Zhaoye returned the bow, casting an appreciative glance at Changxuanzi. "Spirit and flesh fused, fist and sword united, and then discarding all swordsmanship techniques to execute a simple, direct slash—that strike of yours already possessed a hint of supreme skill looking clumsy, using raw force to shatter techniques. It has many commendable points and is truly impressive."
To force him to use five-tenths of his strength made the Daoist before him the very first since the martial trials began.
"You flatter me, Daoist Brother."
Offering a modest reply, Changxuanzi dragged his sword and stepped down from the arena. Although this match had been immensely important to him, a loss was a loss; a cultivator ought to treat victory and defeat lightly, without clinging too heavily to fame and gain.
Xuanxu and the others immediately hurried forward, offering words of warmth and solicitude to Changxuanzi. Defeated though he was, in the eyes of the Seeking Truth Temple, he had fallen with honor.
Time flowed like water. By evening, the participating Daoist sects, rogue cultivators, and spectators were all spirited and refreshed. With the martial trials concluded, this grand gathering of the Daoist Source was also drawing to its close, signaling that the ultimate results were about to be unveiled.
As expected, Daoist Zhaoye of the Purple Glow Sect emerged as the supreme champion of the Dao Source Assembly.
Though Changxuanzi had narrowly lost to Daoist Zhaoye and missed the top five of the martial trials, his comprehensive ranking landed him squarely in fifth place for the entire Dao Source Assembly. He became the sole individual hailing from a minor Daoist lineage to break into the top ten, earning not only a volume of insights from a Qi-Refining True Person but also a grain of Yellow Bud Pill, fulfilling his wishes completely.
Changqingzi’s comprehensive ranking was fortieth. With a disciple bringing him such distinction and saving face, Daoist Xuanyang beamed with smiles at everyone he met.
"Daoist Donglai, the Purple Glow Sect has successors to carry the torch. Congratulations!"
"First place in scriptural debate, the hundred arts, and the martial trials—the Purple Glow Sect has truly dazzled everyone this time. Daoist Donglai must treat us to several tables of Nine-Spirit Delicacies at the Immortal’s Welcome Restaurant!"
...
On the second-tier stands, True Person Donglai stood up to return the bows. He wore a smile on his face, but bitterness in his heart.
If the Purple Glow Sect had truly produced such a heaven-pride prodigy, he would wake up smiling in his dreams; but Zhaoye possessed a different background entirely. Shallow waters could not nurture a true dragon; this was not a figure the Purple Glow Sect could afford to harbor.
Lasting a full month, the Dao Source Assembly finally concluded. The Daoists poured out of the Potian Palace, and regardless of their results, each faction celebrated in its own way.
The Seeking Truth Temple was no exception.
The Daoists, old and young, caroused merrily for half the night.
The next day, the Seeking Truth Temple did not immediately depart from the commandery city.
This was partly because Changxuanzi and Changqingzi needed to tend to their injuries, and partly because *men die for wealth as birds die for food*—the Yellow Bud Pill aided cultivators in breaking through to the Qi-Refining realm, and one could not rule out the possibility of desperate individuals taking risks to seize it in secret.
Rather than traveling with the pill and inviting covetous eyes, it was better to consume and refine it, break through their bottlenecks, ascend to the rank of True Person, and deter all parties, making the journey home much safer.
After deliberation, it was decided that Xuanxu would consume the pill.
Among the third-generation Daoists present, only he and Xuansu glimpsed the threshold of Qi-Refining; they possessed a higher success rate in breaking through and required less time.
Moreover, Xuanxu wielded the heritage Dharma sword, surpassing Xuansu in strength, making it much more appropriate for him to ingest the spiritual pill.
As the owner of the spiritual pill, Changxuanzi raised no objections whatsoever. He had striven hard for this pill precisely to repay his Uncle-Master and give back to the sect. If his Uncle-Master the Abbotsman returned to the mountain as a True Person, Uncle-Master Xuanming would undoubtedly be overjoyed.
Of course, Xuanxu dared to do this because fighting was strictly forbidden within Fengyang County, and the Immortal Forest Pavilion enjoyed the protection of the Heavenly Academy, offering a relatively high safety coefficient. Participating Daoist sects and rogue cultivators were permitted to stay for seven days, leaving them with ample time.
The factions of the top five contestants in the assembly were granted a single application for a cultivation chamber. These chambers were built upon spiritual veins, equipped with defensive grand formations and soundproofing arrays, ensuring immunity to outside disturbances.
This was a privilege bestowed by the Heavenly Academy upon the top five of the assembly, specifically designed to prevent anyone from seizing the Yellow Bud Pill and casting a blemish upon the tournament.
Of course, if someone relied on their own strength and chose not to break through within the city, the Heavenly Academy would not compel them. Once they left the city and lost the spiritual pill, they would bear the consequences themselves, and the Heavenly Academy would assume no responsibility.
Every path was chosen by oneself; if it was meant for you in destiny, you would eventually have it, but if destiny denied it, you should not force it.
Although the cultivation chamber was special, Xuanxu’s breakthrough was a matter of paramount importance. Proceeding with utmost caution, the Daoists took turns standing guard outside the door.
Xuankong even rode a spiritual crane, flying at lightning speed back to Floating Cloud Mountain. He had intended to invite Uncle-Master Xuanming down the mountain, only to discover that yesterday afternoon, after observing a thunderstorm, the Senior Brother had gained a sudden enlightenment and gone into seclusion. With no other choice, he could only rush back hurriedly.